


Souvenir

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Uniform Kink, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened after that first briefing. Twitter challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souvenir

It was that little smirk he gave her in the briefing room. That's the only way she can explain the way she's following him into his office. She looks up into the corner of his office where the wires hang for the new security camera system that is systematically going in and thanks her lucky stars that they haven't made it to his office yet because she knows, just knows, what's about to happen. Because, see, he  _likes_  women. And she likes him. Or at least she likes what she sees. She doesn't  _know_  him yet.

This isn't, by the way, the sort of thing she usually does. She's never slept with a CO, not even when she'd been tempted. Not even when that one had made a blatant pass at her. But all Jack O'Neill had to do was smirk and she'd followed him like a puppy.

In his office, he closes the door behind her and gives her a little half smile, suddenly not quite so cocky.

She clears her throat, "Uh, sir-"

"Really?" he says with a hitch of his eyebrow.

"Jack," she corrects as he unbuttons the jacket of his blues.

He looks suddenly more comfortable but not at all like he's about to jump her. He perches on the edge of his clear desk. "Sam."

"I, uh-"

He gives her a slow, sure grin and whatever she was going to say is lost. He tilts his head to one side like he's considering her and that bolsters her courage. She takes a step towards him. He widens his legs – a clear invitation for her to step between them. She stops just short of him and he reaches out to snag the cuff of her jacket with one very long finger.

She feels compelled to tell him she's not the type to screw her way up the chain of command but the words die in her throat when he opens his mouth to say, "You're not one in a long line, if that's what you're worried about."

Funny, she hadn't been worried about that at all. As a matter of fact, since he'd smirked at her, the only thing she's been worried about is the alarming wetness pooling in her panties.

"I didn't think that," she says quietly and she wonders when her voice got coquettish.

"Good."

She takes the final step into the vee of his legs. "We can't let this affect our work."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Out there I'm just one of the guys."

"You're most definitely not one of those guys," he says and pops the jacket button over her breasts.

"Jack," she says with exasperation.

"Okay, okay, one of the guys." He pops another button. Then another and another until her jacket is hanging open.

She realizes suddenly that she really wants to do him with their uniforms on but she wonders if that's too kinky a request for a first time. An  _only_  time, she reminds herself. She not going to make a habit of fucking her CO. Not even this one with the mouth of sin and the deep eyes that she suspects she could get lost in if she let herself.

She takes another step closer to him, so only their clothing separates them. She's a head taller than him from his perched position and she likes the dichotomy. She wants to kiss him. She drops her eyes to his lips, sees them parted and moist. She looks back into his eyes and he winks at her.  _Winks_  at her. She's done for. She takes his head between her hands and lowers her mouth to his and suddenly his tongue is in her mouth and damn but the man can kiss.

He stands between her and the desk, pushing their bodies even closer together. In her heels they're nearly the same height and she likes that they can just stand there kissing without worrying about cricks in their necks. His hands are on her hips, squeezing at the stiff fabric of her uniform. She sways her hips back and forth and feels the way he helps ruck up her skirt, feels the cool air of his office on her thighs.

He breaks off the kiss and starts to shrug out of his jacket. She stops him with a hand on his bicep. "Leave it on."

He quirks an eyebrow at her but then says, slowly, "Okay."

She reaches for his belt buckle and he looks down at her hands where they're working over his fly. He watches her undo the belt and then the button on his trousers. She reaches for the zipper and finds the back of her hand pressed against a hard column of flesh. "Oh," she breathes out.

He chuckles lowly. "How'd you think we were going to do this?"

She chuffs out a laugh. How indeed?

He bats her hands away from his erection and uses those long fingers she'd noticed earlier to gather up her skirt material until the front of her panties show. They're not regulation and he quirks another eyebrow at her. "Yes, sir?" she purrs and wonders, yet again, where that voice came from.

"Nice," he says with an irreverent half shrug that makes her smile until he runs the pad of one finger across the lacy front of her panties and the smile slips right off her face on the heels of a moan she hadn't prepared for.

With all four fingers he slides down between her legs and, she's sure, finds her wet and ready for him. From just that little smirk, and maybe, a little, the kisses, but mostly the smirk. She's never been turned on so fast in her life. The walk to his office had been exquisite torture and now he seems intent on torturing her further by pressing up into her, finding her dripping hole behind the satin crotch of her panties. He presses as far into her as he can through the sodden barrier.

"Tell me you've been like this through the whole briefing," he says with a slightly unhinged tone to his voice.

"Not the  _whole_ briefing. But since you told me how you  _liked_ women," she admits.

"Really, now?"

"You're a very-" her breath hitches when he drags his fingers up to her clit, "-compelling man."

"And you," he says, dipping his fingers inside her panties to encounter her flesh without resistance, "are a very intriguing woman."

She widens her stance to give him room to work and her skirt slides up around her waist. She knows she must already look thoroughly debauched. She feels the flush on her face. She reaches for his zipper again. This time, he doesn't stop her. While he works his fingers over her clit she slowly drags his zipper down. She pushes his pants down his lean hips where they catch on his muscular thighs. He's in jockey shorts and she can see the almost obscene outline of his erection. "Wow."

Her eyes fly to his face when she realizes she's spoken aloud and she sees amusement dancing in his eyes. In a heartbeat she finds them spun around so the desk is behind her then with another quick move she's turned to face the desk and he's behind her pressing his hardness into her ass. "Oh, that's nice," she says and then realizes she's still talking. Her flush turns into a blush, she can feel the heat burning in her cheeks.

"Too fast?" he wants to know as he bends her over the desk.

She wants to say yes, save some face, but the truth is, she's been ready since the briefing room. "No."

He's peeling her panties down her body, she feels them drop to the floor. He's got one hand on her lower back when he pushes two fingers inside her, rubbing gently and unerringly at her g-spot. She opens her mouth to say something but a groan comes out instead. "Just checking," he says. She hears him suck her juices off his fingers and then he's grasping her hips with both hands.

He teases her entrance with the head of his cock then pushes his hips forward, slicking along her cleft to bump into her clit. He repeats the action until she shifts her weight and moans his name. He slides into her, long and slow and she feels the way her body has to adjust to him before he can slide all the way inside. She knew he was a  _wow_  when she'd seen him in his shorts, but the feeling of him stretching her is beyond words. She wishes she could see his face. But then he pulls out and slams back into her with a force that pushes her upper body across his desk and she's suddenly not thinking of anything anymore.

He doesn't just fuck her, he takes her. He slams into her over and over again, her hands flat on the desk, her back arched, she knows she must look wanton but she doesn't care because he feels better inside her than the last three men combined and one of them she was prepared to marry and isn't that just depressing when there was sex like this waiting for her?

"You doin' okay," he asks her after a particularly hard thrust.

"Oh yeah," she groans. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't plannin' on it."

The pleasure in his voice makes her flood with another rush of arousal. That she could make this man sound like that...

And what he's doing, it feels good, but it's not enough and his rhythm is starting to falter. She reaches between her own legs to rub at her clit.

"Oh yeah," he groans and gives her ass an appreciative carress. It makes her shiver.

She can feel him holding back. "I'll come if you come," she pants.

"You first," he says.

"No, really," she tries to reason with him around the muddle she feels from the excellent sex, "it turns me on."

"Shit," he groans and pumps away at her harder.

She doesn't think to tell him to pull out, but he does and she feels the way he splashes semen across her ass and dripping slit. She can feel it on her fingers where she's rubbing her clit and she starts to come. Long and hard, she comes, he groans at the sight.

When it's over, she's panting and she's afraid to move and get his come all over her uniform. "Hang on," he says, identifying her predicament. She looks over her shoulder as he hauls his pants up enough to reach into the pocket. He produces a handkerchief which he uses to wipe the mess up from her skin and between her legs. She purrs her gratitude.

When she's clean, he gives her ass one last lingering carress then a sharp pat and she knows it's safe to stand up. She kicks off her useless underwear and he picks them up before she can and shoves them into his pocket. "Souvenir," he says with a rakish grin.

"I liked those," she says, though she doesn't really want them back, she sort of likes the idea that they'll go home with him, possibly have some future use. She shimmies until her uniform is back in place and then buttons up properly. He does the same.

"So, that was fun," she says slyly.

"And now it's out of our systems," he says, but he doesn't sound so sure. Honestly, she's not sure that got him out of her system either. She's afraid she's going to want lots more where that came from. Not that she'd tell him that. He is, after all, her CO.

"No need to do it again," she agrees though she thinks the doubt might have come through her voice, too.

"Nope," he says and then gives her a slow grin and a sly wink. She smiles back at him. Too bad the cameras will be up by the time they get back from their mission. She thinks post mission sex with Jack O'Neill would probably be more explosive than post briefing sex. But she'll just have to find out about that some other day, time and place.

She collects his handkerchief off his desk, tucks the wet cloth into her sleeve. "Souvenir," she says with a small smile. He laughs, she giggles, and she knows for certain they're definitely in trouble.


End file.
